


Independence Day

by debwalsh



Series: Take Up Your Shield and Follow Me [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: #buckyandsteve, Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Fun, Gen, Independence Day - Freeform, Innocence, Joyful, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 09:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1894533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Fourth of July, but Steve’s got a bad summer cold and can’t take part in the neighborhood block party, can’t go to the fireworks.  But his new pal Bucky has brought a special present for Steve’s birthday, a present that Steve will never forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Independence Day

Steve could hear the sounds of music and laughter waft up from the block party down the street, and bit his lip once again, silently cursing the summer cold that had marooned him to the upper reaches of the tenement where he lived with his Ma. It was Fourth of July, Independence Day, and his eighth birthday, and he was exiled to the safety of their porch.

Everyone else from their floor was down at the party, enjoying the potluck dinner of pork and beans, cabbage and corned beef, kraut and potatoes. There might even be cakes and pies and maybe even watermelon, full of seeds to spit as far as he could make them fly. Ma had promised that if the party was still going on when she got off her shift at the hospital, she’d fill a plate to bring back to him so he could enjoy the party too. But he had a feeling that with so many people crowded into the street below, there wouldn’t be much left by the time Ma was free.

Ma had tried to get the day off, and the night, to celebrate Steve’s birthday with him, but the hospital was short-staffed and Ma couldn’t afford to pass up on an extra shift, especially when she wasn’t given much choice. 

So Steve was home by himself, sitting on the porch, blanket tucked around his shoulders, legs dangling between the rungs of the railing, listening to snatches of music, and thinking he could catch a whiff every so often of all the food being shared below. His dinner of soup and bread was filling, but it wasn’t as exotic as party fare. High up here, maybe he’d be able to catch a glimpse of fireworks later, a roman candle or two, a skyrocket maybe, or one of those cannon things that burn fast and bright and wide. Steve loved fireworks, loved the colors painted on the night, the crackle and boom and hiss and sizzle. The ooohs and ahhhs of the crowd as the fuse ignited, the pause as the firework decided whether or not it was going to go off at all, and if so, if it was going to fly true, burst on the ground, or fly off into the crowd. 

He’d heard of fireworks causing injury, even death, heard about a fireworks plant in Jersey where one of the little buildings where they made fireworks had blown to heaven and then some. He wondered what kind of job it was to make fireworks, and wondered if that was something he might be able to do someday. He didn’t care if they could be wild, could be dangerous. Fireworks were a beautiful thing, and he would love to be the person who tamed them and made them spatter the night with light.

“Kinda lonely up here by yer lonesome, huh?” a voice suddenly floated down the walkway toward him. He looked up, grinning. “But nice, quiet. Kinda like having a box seat at the ballpark, huh? Like we’re a coupla swells.”

“Bucky!” Steve greeted, twisting from where his legs were braced by the railing rungs. “Whatcha doing up here? How come you’re not at the party?”

“Thought mebbe I’d bring the party to you,” Bucky answered with a brilliant smile, and brought a plate full of party food from behind his back, watching Steve intently for his reaction.

The plate was piled high with beans, franks, sauerkraut, potatoes, half an ear of corn, a sliced tomato circling the plate, looking good enough to eat. And then Bucky brought the best part out – another dish laden with a couple of slices of the reddest looking watermelon Steve had ever seen.

“That’s not all for me –“

“Nah, figured we could share. S’all right? You wanna share?” Bucky asked, tentatively now that he made his offering.

“Aw, yeah!” Steve replied enthusiastically, untangling himself from the railing and stumbling to his feet so he could join Bucky.

***

At Bucky’s urging, Steve grabbed forks, a knife, and a couple of cloth napkins from his apartment, and then he and Bucky had made their way to the roof. He’d left a scribbled note for his Ma that he and Bucky were having Independence Day on the roof. 

The whole of Brooklyn was laid out at their feet, at least the buildings that were shorter than their tenement. Not many really, but they felt ten feet tall, raised above the street below. Didn’t matter, the air seemed clearer up here, higher up from the street. They made a picnic lunch on the roof, tucking into the feast that Bucky had liberated from the party.

“Y’sure your Ma won’t mind, you comin’ up here with me?”

“Nah. Ma’s got my sisters to worry about. Becky’s got boys sniffin’ around her now, and Da’s got his Irish up. Ma’s got her hands full, she don’t need to worry about me, too.”

“You don’t think she’ll worry when she can’t find you?”

“Ma knows where to find me. If I ain’t with her, I’m with you. Now eat up – you don’t get no watermelon ‘til you’ve finished your supper. And a guy’s gotta have watermelon on Fourth of July.”

***

“Hah!” Steve crowed as his watermelon seeds pinged off the flue and ricocheted across the gap between buildings to fall on the roof of the adjoining tenement.

“No fair, you _cheated_!” Bucky argued, giggling.

“How’d I cheat, huh? It’s a spittin’ contest, fer Chrissakes! I spit, I hit, I won!”

Bucky flung his arm around Steve’s shoulders and noogied his tow-haired head. “All right, all right. Okay, you won, you punk. Don’t make such a big deal, for Chrissakes – think yer gettin’ a big head, hitting the side of a buildin’ with a watermelon seed!”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed, grinning. His chest didn’t hurt, not really, and he’d swear that pesky summer cold had made itself scarce. Course it did – can’t have a cold when you’re standing in the warmth of someone like his best friend. Cold don’t stand a chance, nosirree.

Their good-natured chuckling gradually stilled into a pleasant just-happy-to-be-here, as they looked out over the buildings surrounding theirs. Suddenly, they could hear the percussion of a firework going off, the faint afterglow above the building, but none of the pretty sparkles. Another followed, and another. Just there, over to the left, the edge of skyrocket’s trail. And oh, over there – no, to the right! A roman candle whizzed through the air, leaving a wake of fizz and pop and light. Another boom, followed by another and another and another, and Steve sighed wistfully.

“Y’shoulda stayed and watched the fireworks where y’ could see ‘em, Buck.”

“Nah. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, not every day my best pal turns eight.”

Steve ducked his head shyly, grinning. “Didn’t know if you knew.”

“That it’s your birthday? Course I did! Mooks got it wrong – not independence day. It’s Steve day. Shoulda launched them firecrackers right here, right in front of ya. But I got something almost as good,” Bucky added with a wide grin. 

From under his shirt, tucked in the waistband of Bucky’s short pants, he drew out a fistful of sparklers. Sparklers!

“Wow, Bucky, where’d y’get _those_?” Steve breathed, eyes big as saucers and twice as greedy.

“Traded Joey Krane my Dazzy Vance card. His dad works down over that fireworks plant in Jersey. Figured a fella can’t have a birthday on Fourth a’ July and not have a few fireworks of his own.”

“Aw, Buck, you didn’t have to trade your card –“

“Worth it. We’re gonna paint the air with our names and spin around and make our own fireworks. Right Steve?”

“Right!”

***

Sparklers never last long, but while they burn, they burn hot and bright, sizzling with pent up danger and excitement and just plain fun. Steve’s cold was forgotten as he excitedly waited for Bucky to ignite his sparkler, and then he was racing around the roof holding the sparkler aloft, trailing sparks and giggles and joy, and for one night, Steve Rogers was healthy and whole like other kids. 

All too soon, the sparkler fizzled and spat and faded, and Steve ran back to Bucky and doused the sparkler in the watering can their neighbor used to tend the little rooftop garden over toward the far wall. Bucky pulled out another sparkler and another match and started to light it for Steve when Steve interrupted him. “Where’s yours? We’re both gonna write our names, right? Y’gotta have a sparkler goin’, Buck. C’mon!”

“Nah, I was just gonna let you –“

“Nope, both or nothin’. C’mon, it’s my birthday, y’gotta do what I say, it’s a rule.”

“Okay,” Bucky groused, pulling out another sparkler and handing it to Steve. He lit the match and touched off both sparklers at once, grabbed his from Steve, and off they went running, sparks trailing. They looped their letters in the air, big sweeping arcs in small hands. And when those were done, Bucky had just three more, so they lit two more up and raced each other to sign their names to the night, draw pictures that hung suspended in the air for a second, two, burned on the back of their eyes and then faded to nothing. And finally they were down to the last one, and Steve held it while Bucky set it off, and then Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and they ran around again, holding the sparkler overhead, reveling in the sheer joy of running, trailing starfire like comets burning through the void.

And when the last sparkler had died off, the boys tumbled to the blanket laid on the ground giggling and spent, and within moments, they’d fallen asleep in a tangle of limbs.

***

Sarah Rogers got home much later than she’d hoped, and the block party had long since ended. Poor Steve, alone on his birthday and not able to attend the party that had been so tantalizingly close. Her chest tightened at the thought of his brave little face, at the claims she knew he’d make that it was all okay. Not for the first time, she wondered how she’d been so lucky to have such a child. His body might be weak, but his spirit, his soul, was strong. She was convinced there was greatness in her little boy, and that wasn’t just a doting mother’s opinion. Really, it wasn’t. She knew that Joseph would have been proud of the little man their son was becoming.

But when Sarah got home and found the apartment empty, a surge of panic spun through her, until she saw Steve’s scrawled note. Upstairs. In the growing chill of the evening. Oh. 

She raced up the stairs to the rooftop and took the last flight of stairs two at a time . As she breached the roof, she stopped suddenly, taking in the sight of Steve and Bucky, fast asleep in a pile where it was impossible to tell where one boy stopped and the other began. Trust Bucky to remember Steve’s birthday and find a way to celebrate it with him. 

She walked slowly, quietly across the booth, saw the plates piled neatly by the boys and smiled wider. She’d have to say something to Eileen, Bucky’s Ma, and thank her for her son’s kindnesses. 

For now, she had to deal with getting the two hooligans downstairs without hurting themselves. Dropping low beside them, she gently nudged Steve’s shoulder and said, “Wake up sleepy head. Time to get you tucked in your own bed.”

“Mmm, Mom? Happy Independence Day, Mom,” Steve murmured, rubbing his eyes with fisted hands. “Buck! Hey, Buck – my Mom’s home,” he shook his pal, and Bucky stirred.

“Come on, boys, let’s get you home. And happy birthday, Steve,” she added fondly.

“Best birthday ever,” Steve agreed sleepily, as his Mom and Bucky both hauled him to his feet. 

Bucky slung his arm over Steve’s shoulder and grinned happily. “ _Best so far_. Next year’ll be better – wait ‘til you see what I’ve got planned!”

Sarah picked up the plates and blanket and followed, as Bucky sleepily outlined his plans to celebrate Steve’s ninth birthday. Sarah smiled to herself and shook her head fondly. Independence Day, indeed.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I'm going to be writing something for these boys for every holiday. But since Independence Day/Fourth of July is also Steve's birthday, this made sense. Written on the spur of the moment to celebrate Stevie.


End file.
